Wiser With Age

Tag: memoir

  • First-time author describes his journey from addiction and jail to finally freedom

    First-time author describes his journey from addiction and jail to finally freedom

    Hector La Fosse at the 2019 21st Annual International Latino Book Awards on September 21, 2019 at the Los Angeles City College. (Courtesy Hector La Fosse)

    Hector La Fosse has had a life more reckless than most. 

    It all started in New York City, in the 1960’s. La Fosse was born – the youngest of seven siblings to Puerto Rican parents. His father was unemployed, and an alcoholic who used to beat his mother. At only 7, La Fosse was raped by a teenage girl in his neighborhood. Since then, he decided to escape to the streets, looking for a release in drugs, women and gang life. Eventually, that life led to many years in and out of jail. 

    It took almost four decades, but after much healing – physically and emotionally – he was finally able to get married, and leave drugs and his criminal life for good. For the past two decades, La Fosse has worked as a mentor, counselor, and bounty hunter. 

    As a teenager, sitting in a jail cell, La Fosse says he was first inspired by a book called, “Down These Mean Streets,” written by Piri Thomas. He says reading this book served as a pivotal moment in his life that planted the dream of becoming a writer someday. It wasn’t until 45 years later that this dream would finally come to fruition. 

    Today, at 61, La Fosse lives in central Florida with his wife, and two dogs. This is where he wrote his first book, “No Regrets: The Journey” – an award-winning memoir about his troubled life that finally was rerouted on a path towards healing and redemption. On October 13, La Fosse will be returning to his native NYC to read from his book at Festival of Books 2019.

    What made you finally ready to write this book?

    I wrote this book to release myself. To release my secrets. That was my sole purpose – to share my secrets with the world. At the beginning, it was very painful and frustrating to relive these moments in my life. I just wanted to quit many times. Reliving the pain was more painful than the actual experience. Now as an adult, looking back, I realize I never let go of that little boy and the pain that he experienced. The teenager took the adult hostage dictating to him how to feel. I was an angry little kid. 

    Why do you think you gravitated towards bad influences when you were little?

    I felt hopeless. I was homeless, and the easy was more attractive… I just wanted to run. The corners I ran to were negative places – people out of similar experiences. It became comfortable to me, because I was becoming accepted in another world, and these people accepted me. It became a way of life. I became conditioned to living this lifestyle, because I was running. I was hiding. The using of the drugs was another escape for me not to feel. Throughout this whole process, I was suffering. I became frightened and built this fantasy world. I lived in this illusion that this was the best way. 

    You mention praying a few times in your book. How has that been instrumental in your life?

    I grew up Pentecostal. We went to church at night. I was already rebelling. It’s not what I wanted to be, but I always had some faith. I always believed in God. Many times I was angry with God, because I felt he abandoned me and He let me suffer. But a lot of times, I called on Him because of the fear that I was experiencing at a given moment…I kept telling God, “Help me,” or “I’m hungry.” I always had the belief that there was a God, but I was angry at Him. But He was always there. I always had that feeling that He was watching over me. Mostly because of all of the things that I escaped. I tried understanding the lessons He was trying to tell me. I couldn’t decipher it, I couldn’t make sense of it, but it came very subtly to me. And I didn’t follow my conscious, because I didn’t know how to tap into it, but the message was coming to me. Later in life, it actually hit me. 

    I had eventually formed a habit of praying, because I saw miracles happen in my life. The biggest thing that happened to me was when I finished building my house [after moving to Florida 16 year ago]…but I was still obsessed with building more. I was a little kid from the ghetto, from poverty, and I promised myself I would never to be poor again. Now I am for the very first time in my very own house. It became a fortress. I put so much time and money into it. Thirteen years later, I look at my house and thank God. I said while crying, “Wow, look at what you have done for this little boy.” I start to meditate, and in my conscious, I felt something big and clear speak to me, “Now it’s time for you to leave everything. There’s something more for you to do.” I get emotional, and I get frightened. It was clear to me. I go back to make sense of it. I go into prayer again, and ask Him again. I caught a vision of that teeneager in the prison cell that read that book for the very first time – “Down Those Mean Streets” – that was the first book I ever read that made sense to me. And I realized, “Wow, one day I’m going to tell my story.” That was the very first moment I had a goal. It was clear what my purpose was.

    Shortly after that, we moved to a one-bedroom apartment… We closed down the house – following the instructions. I had been making a lot of money as a self-employed bounty hunter, but I closed my business and I started writing for 12 to 13 hours a day. I would sleep two to three hours a night, because I kept being woken up by thoughts and experiences…After I published my book, I moved back to my house, but I still let everything go. My mission was no longer money…I had been writing for three years. I had to leave the house, because it was a distraction. I was also a community leader, so I had to go somewhere where I knew no one. 

    Do you remember the exact turning point for you when you truly turned your life around? Where were you, and what made you finally do it? 

    The main turning point was when I realized I kept reliving the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I didn’t have any money…but one day, I saw an infomercial at 2 or 3 in the morning, and it kept saying detox in 24 hours with a new treatment for only $3,000. That stuck in my head. I asked God to help me. A couple of days later, I get a credit card that I never applied for in the mail with a max limit of $3,000. Right away, I knew what this money would be for. I called, and they accepted me. They put me to sleep and they flushed me with a treatment…but I started to get a seizure, and I went into a coma and almost died…I was so weak that I could not leave the house for months. That’s where the transformation occurred. I detoxed while I was comatose.I said I could never, ever go through that again, and I turned more to God. I started going to NA meetings, and that saved my life. 

    What do you think made you go from woman to woman throughout your life? 

    I got sexually abused. That experience never left me. I thought that sex was a weapon. I thought it was normal to not show feelings, or emotions, and just do this kind of stuff. I think that was the beginning of that behavior where I just used women for instant gratification. I disregarded other people’s feelings. It was about me and the pleasure. The goal was always self-seeking. With women, I was always seeking my mother’s love… I was seeking the love that my mom started giving me as a baby, but it stopped [since the abuse], because I wasn’t present anymore. So I was looking for women to pick up that gap. I was always seeking that love and attention, but no one could be that equal, so it never felt right. So I kept running and seeking. No woman was able to fill that gap. When I learned that, it shattered me. I began to work on it. Things started to transform. I began to notice the patterns in my behavior and changing those things. My wife was the first woman I met when I started doing the things to heal in that area. Now, I can catch myself. It’s an ongoing process. I’ve addressed it, and can see it most times. This is the longest relationship I’ve been in – 20 years. I still want to run sometimes…It’s a struggle that hasn’t ended. I’m still that little kid. I have to be diligent recognizing these thoughts to leave. It becomes an internal fight – [like a part of me] always looking for an easier way. But it becomes just a thought and I have to decide not act out on it.

    What do you wish you could tell your deceased parents now with all the knowledge you’ve gained now? 

    I’m looking at their picture on my desk, and they are both looking at me in the eye when I look at them. I’m so hurt by the pain I caused them. I failed to recognize that they truly loved me. Everytime I go to NY, I visit the cemetery – they were buried together. I never know how I am going to react. The pain still lives inside me. I still have those regrets…I’ve been on rainy days crying in the mud asking for forgiveness. I’m always asking for their forgiveness. It’s as if it was yesterday. What I tell them is, “I’m so sorry. I know what you gave me is the only thing you knew. This is what you knew to show me. You knew no better. You gave me what you had. What you learned from your parents.”

    My mom is the biggest pain for me, because I saw it in her eyes – her pain and feeling powerless. She didn’t know what to do [about my father beating her and me, running away]. Everytime I went to see her, I saw she was suffering so much for me. I changed the softness in her. That’s the pain I live with…She never knew I was molested. So no one knew why I was changing. She was the one that loved me the most. 

    What do you wish you could tell your sons?

    I’m sorry I didn’t meet up to their expectations of me. I’m sorry that my experiences in life blinded me to their needs. I’m really sorry and will have to live with that. A lot of their behaviors stemmed from that. With my oldest son, I was present, but I didn’t know how to be a parent. I thought buying things was a way to please him. I made a mistake. I became more his friend than his dad. 

    What is the most important piece of life advice that you would tell your younger self now at 61 years old?

    Hector La Fosse in Kindergarten (Courtesy Hector La Fosse)

    What I would tell that little boy inside that suffered so much is that you don’t have to suffer anymore. I, the adult, will take care of you even when you keep reliving those memories. I will be there to comfort and protect you from here on end, and that I love you. I love that little boy. I have his Kindergarten picture on my wall. It’s the only picture I have as a child. That’s the picture that has inspired me. That little boy is my lifelong mission – to bring him love and bring healing to his spirit. My mother didn’t have money to pay for that picture, and the teacher helped her…I found the picture as an adult, long after my parents died, and had it restored. He looks at me all the time. 

    What are your goals for the future?

    I am now obsessed with sharing my message and sharing my hope. I just want to share my story with the world. I’m going to keep writing. I have ideas for my second book. It’s about some of the things I left out about illusions and fantasies, and where I go in my mind. The illusion [our mind creates as a defense mechanism to deal with pain] feels real, and how does one decipher that from reality? Like a self-help guide. I’m currently speaking at different venues, and book signing. This is what I’m meant to do. [This week] I’m going to speak to clinical social workers about behavioral changes of troubled teens.

    I realize now that God was preparing me all along. He was always carrying me. He was preparing me for this moment. I went to school got licensed as an addiction counselor, because I was hungry to know more – to understand and figure myself out. I became an HIV and health counselor…and helped people approaching death to prepare them for end of life. While counseling, I grew attachments to the patients, mothers, wives, husbands – that burned me out and that’s when I moved to Florida. 

    You have to believe that there is a purpose in the good, and bad – in everything. Now I know my purpose. You have to be still to hear it. I meditate to do this. I only wish I could’ve got my purpose earlier, but that wasn’t the plan. I gotta do what I can with the time I have left to make a difference.

  • Author Bob Brody on “Playing Catch with Strangers”

    Author Bob Brody on “Playing Catch with Strangers”

    Bob Brody speaking at his book signing for “Playing Catch with Strangers” at the Forest Hills Library on September 16, 2017. (Courtesy Bob Brody)

    In “Playing Catch with Strangers,” an essay published in The New York Times in 2015, Bob Brody writes that he played catch with his father only once in his life.

    “That summer afternoon, I felt about as happy as I’d ever felt. That’s how it goes when you’re 8 years old and playing catch with your dad,” writes Brody. “But then my father got busy with work, too busy to play catch with me anymore, always leaving early in the morning and returning late at night, and that turned out to be that. He had to do what he had to do.”

    Although short-lived, that special day ignited a flame in Brody’s life that would never extinguish – one that would continually remind him the importance of having fun and nurturing relationships throughout his life. In addition to becoming a public relations executive and a writer, Brody, now 65, still makes it his joyous duty to play catch with anyone who is interested.

    His memoir, comprised of the many personal essays he’s written throughout his life about family and special moments, is similarly titled, “Playing Catch with Strangers: A Family Guy (Reluctantly) Comes of Age,” and hit shelves this past June.

    “My new book covers my whole life…It’s a celebration,” says Brody. “It’s about my struggle to overcome immaturity. I resisted responsibility for a long time…It wasn’t until I was 35 [when my daughter was born] that I developed a real hard work ethic.”

    He says his whole life he’d only wanted to be a writer.

    “That ambition took shape when I was 12,” recalls Brody, who ended up writing for his junior high, high school, and then college paper. “My grandfather bought me a New York Daily News subscription so I could read about the Yankees. I appreciated the directness of the language. I really didn’t get serious about writing till I was 18 – in college. Writing for the school paper, I became infatuated with words. I was not much of a storyteller at that point. I was just looking to see what I could do with language. I used to use big words – words that I will probably never use again. I’ve come to recognize short words can be good, short sentences can be good…I like street language too.”

    He says if he had to do it all over, he really doesn’t know what else he could’ve become.

    “I guess I could’ve become a lawyer, but then I would’ve written about being a lawyer,” says Brody, smiling.

    Born in the Bronx, Brody lived there almost three years before migrating to the suburbs of Fair Lawn, NJ. He was always smitten with NYC, however, as he would often sleep over his grandparents’ house there, and his grandmother would take him to all the museums and concert halls, including Radio City Music Hall.

    At 23, after majoring in English at Fairleigh Dickinson University, he moved to Manhattan. This momentous occasion also led to his proudest career moment at 26 – getting published in The New York Times.

    “I wrote about the time I got mugged five weeks into living in New York City,” laughs Brody, who has since lived in Forest Hills, Queens for the past 40 years.

    Since his big break, Brody’s work has appeared in publications such as The Atlantic, The Washington Post and The Wall Street Journal, and more. He also wrote the book, “Edge Against Cancer,” which profiles 12 athletes who survived cancer and were able to return to competing in their respective sports.

    He says it was when his son and daughter were born that he realized he needed to find another source of income.

    “The only option I considered was public relations, because a lot of it is writing,” says Brody, who has now worked in PR for the past 26 years. “I majored in English, but I never trained for public relations. It was a tough adjustment, because for one, I was used to working on my own. I was used to being a solo act. When you work for a public relations firm, I had to learn how to be a teammate.”

    At his full-time job, he says his work partly entails writing pitches, ghost writing op-eds, white papers, or memos.

    “My ideal life would be to write whatever I wanted for at least three hours a day, but I think PR is good for me,” says Brody, adding that he usually enjoys writing first thing in the morning. “If I had to write only what I wanted, I might get sick of my own voice.”

    His first love will always be writing essays though. The very first short story he wrote was about a haunted house when he about 8, and currently, he writes approximately 20 essays a year.

    “I love telling a story that’s going to hit people where they live – make them smarter, or get them excited about something,” says Brody. “If I can write anything inspirational, that’s the holy grail. I also like the sense of control. It’s me and the blank screen. Me and the words, and how I want to tell the story. It’s fun to get published. I write to be read. All these years later, and I still never get tired of it.”

    He says his five year plan entails writing three more books — the first being called, “Letters to My Kids,” of which he already started an online blog (where he urges others to also write journals to their children), another would be a memoir honoring his deaf parents, and the last would be a memoir about working in public relations.

    “When I’ve written about something, I really feel like I’ve lived it,” says Brody about the necessity he feels to document his life with words. “I think I have much of it there in my new book– and it’s about the people closest to my heart.”

    There are two pieces of advice about life he’s learned thus far that he would’ve liked to share with his younger self:

    “On family – I wish I knew years ago what family means to me now,” says Brody. “I feel I failed early on to realize the importance of family. In some respects, I’m too late and in some, I’m just on time…and work harder. You have less time than you think. The world is never going to come to you so take nothing for granted.”

  • How writing her life story led a woman to inner healing

    How writing her life story led a woman to inner healing

    Maria Aponte (Photo/George Malave)

    Maria Aponte was born and raised an only child in East Harlem, otherwise known as “El Barrio,” in New York City, to Puerto Rican parents.

    Because she lost her mother at 16, and her father at 22, loneliness was a battle she fought most of her life, but it was also what made her the undefeated warrior and artist that she is today. And perhaps, the eternal yearning for parental guidance and wisdom, is what drove her to create a non-profit which honors elders later in life.

    At 60, Aponte has achieved much. She has written and performed two one-woman plays, the autobiographical “Lagrimas de mis Madres,” and “I Will Not Be Silenced,” based on the life of Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz. She has also written a poetry book, and a memoir, “The Gift of Loss,” which most recently hit shelves. In addition to working full-time in career development at Fordham University, she also started a non-profit called Latina 50 Plus four years ago, through which she honors other Latina pioneers over the age of 50.

    “I got the opportunity to tell my story in “Lagrimas de mis madres,” says Aponte about the play based on the women in her family, which she wrote during her undergrad years.

    Aponte performing in her one woman show, “Lagrimas de Mis Madres.” (Photo/Elena Marrero)

    She says the story came easily, because she wrote the script using the poetry she had written throughout her youth.

    “I wanted to tell this story, because I was the last woman in my family, and I thought it could help others,” says Aponte, adding that she knew her work touched the audience when people would wait in the lobby to thank her for her courage to tell her story. “Eventually, it became a full-length play on off-Broadway. I took it on the road for 10 and a half years around the country.”

    Because she was not the “typical looking Puerto Rican actress” of the time, she explains, like Rita Moreno – but more Afro-Latina in appearance, Aponte says she found she would get more work if she wrote plays herself. Her next play about Sor Juana de la Cruz, she also developed into a one-woman show and took it on tour around the country.

    “I was an introvert, and I think the arts saved me,” says Aponte, about how she dealt with the early death of her mother. “Even though it was painful, I was always able to use my art to deal with my pain.”

    She says she knew she was born to be an artist as young as age 7.

    “I knew I wanted to be in the theater ever since I was a munchkin in the school play, ‘The Wizard of Oz’ – I connected to the stage,” says Aponte. “I was jumping up and down one day, and I smelled dust from the wooden planks of the stage, and I loved the smell. My first influence was my drama teacher at 13 – I was learning lines and stage plotting…I knew then that I knew I would be an artist, and I always have been in some form.”

    She adds that her favorite medium will always be theater.

    “I love live theater,” says Aponte. “When I do a poetry reading, I end up performing…To me, it’s not just memorizing lines but developing character and taking the audience on a journey. I fell into the poetry thing in the 80’s, and that’s when I started writing more. My saving grace was the Nuyorican Poet’s Café. When I walked in, I felt like I was walking into El Barrio. That’s where I discovered my Puerto Rican pride, and where I connected with elders like Pedro Pietri.”

    She says she also learned a lot from the late Miriam Colon who was the founder and director of NYC’s Puerto Rican Traveling Theater.

    “My elders taught me about my history and my culture,” says Aponte, who moved to the Bronx in the 1980’s, where she still resides today with her husband and fellow storyteller, Bobby Gonzalez.

    Now that she’s older, she would like to return the same favor and be an example for the youth she encounters.

    Aponte has led a structured presence, in her otherwise diversified creative life, working full-time at Fordham University for the past 19 years. She has spent time in various departments, but has stayed in career services for the past 11 years – in the managing diversity initiative, and in 2014 she simultaneously completed her MA in Latino Studies.

    “I don’t think you should stay stuck,” says Aponte. “I love the life I live today. A typical month could also involve sitting on panels and supporting other artists’ work. My heart is in the betterment and development of women of color.”

    For herself, she realized how life growth happens in stages, over time, and she tries to teach that to others.

    “I was always telling my story in pieces. I have played my grandmother, mother, myself as a child, and as a woman,” says Aponte. “I would never address my father. My parents separated when I was two. My dad was actually not a bad person, just an alcoholic. He was a percussionist and could sing…but I never experienced him myself, just from what I heard from others. I wanted to write also about forgiveness.”

    Through her writing, Aponte says she has documented the amount of years it took her to become her own woman.

    “It is about coming to terms with who you are, and thinking, ‘Wow, I went through all that,’ she says. “I have a tremendous gratitude for life. Like right now as I’m speaking to you, I’m smiling.”

    She adds that most people don’t want to deal with emotion, but everyone has to at their own timing.

    “People say I’m so calm, but I say it’s a lot of work,” says Aponte. “The best I can do is plant a little seed.”

    Why she created Latina 50 Plus?

    “In the industry I work in, career development, I felt that older Latina women were disappearing,” says Aponte. “I felt I needed to create a space where their history wouldn’t be lost. We need to honor the elders who rolled up their sleeves before us.”

    Latina 50 Plus is a non-profit currently in its fourth year. The fourth annual luncheon, taking place on June, 24, will be honoring seven women in the fields of art, community service, education, medicine, law and literature.

    The next goal, she says, is a mentoring program.

    Her advice to her younger self?

    “Being a child caregiver, I would ignore myself,” says Aponte. “I had to really work hard on that. That’s how my brain worked. That could be your own obstacle…You have to have passion and persistence, because if you don’t, you can get swallowed up in the mundane stuff. You must discover yourself. Ask yourself, ‘Who am I?’ Everyone is going to have that moment. Don’t be afraid of it. Accept yourself with all of your imperfections. It’s ok if you mess up.”

  • Civil rights era poet shares how he aims to create civility in today’s society

    Civil rights era poet shares how he aims to create civility in today’s society

    Poet E. Ethelbert Miller (Photo\Annie Kim)

    Eugene Ethelbert Miller, who goes by his middle name, “Ethelbert,” is a writer and literary activist who says he’s never been busier than at 66.

    Originally from the Bronx, NY, Miller made his way to Washington, D.C. to attend Howard University at 18. He’s been residing in the U.S. capitol ever since, where he’s written several collections of poetry, two memoirs and where he has served as editor of America’s oldest poetry journal, “Poet Lore.” His most recent book, “The Collected Poems of E. Ethelbert Miller,” hit shelves last year.

    The award-winning poet also loves to discuss history and politics, and thus currently hosts and produces half-hour segments with experts in different fields, called, “The Scholars” on UDC-TV, and is the host of the weekly morning radio show, “On the Margin,” which airs on WPFW-FM 89.3. 

    “I made the decision to be a writer my sophomore year [of college],” recalls Miller. “I arrived to Howard University in 1968 – the year Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, and then following that, Robert Kennedy was assassinated in June. The Vietnam War was going on – 1968 was one of the most important years in world history.”

    He says it was during this time that he was “sort of baptized in black history.”

    “I wanted to be involved in every aspect of writing about it,” says Miller about the politically-charged time, as sharply and energetically as if it were just yesterday. “It was just like now – with the Woman’s March and Black Lives Matter…”

    He remembers writing his first poems on the back of envelopes on his letters to family back in NY – his favorite topic being love.

    “I wrote many love poems,” says Miller. “I wanted to leave behind poems that were similar to Pablo Neruda’s work.”

    Eventually, his poems made it to the school newspaper, and then a DJ started to read his poems on Howard’s school radio.

    “Last year, my collective works came out,” continues Miller. “Now I can hold in my hand a body of work that represents 40 years.”

    As the first member of his family to go to college, he considers this quite the accomplishment.

    “My family is from the West Indies,” says Miller. “My father worked in the post office, my mother was a seamstress. College was a strain financially, and when I said I wanted to be a writer, it took them a while to understand.”  

    However, he has no regrets on his career choice.

    “When I look back on my writing, it took me to places that I couldn’t have gone otherwise,” says the poet, mentioning the U.S. State Department sponsored some of his trips. “I went to Iraq, Saudi Arabia, people would send me to all sorts of places.”

    Miller also spent 40 years as director of the African American Resource Center at Howard University, where he was able to give back to an institution that has given him so much.

    “I was one of the first graduates of African American Studies at Howard University,” says Miller, explaining it was one of the first schools to offer this program in history. “Howard students pushed for the African American Studies Department, and the Ford Foundation gave a large grant to set up the department, and part of it was the Resource Center.”

    Miller started out as a student at the Resource Center, and then became a director in 1974. He describes it as a place with a lot of books, and a base to document African American history.

    “I made a lot of contacts working there – there’s probably no African American writer I don’t know,” says Miller, remembering the memorable time Alex Haley, the author of “Roots” and “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” came to meet him there. “A lot of people came through that program. When you stay at a place 40 years, you are going to touch a lot of lives, and a lot of lives are going to touch you.”

    However, about two years ago, Miller says budget cuts shut down the program, and he was let go.

    “You might have three, four, or five professions in your life. I worked in a place for 40 years. That way of life is not coming back,” says Miller about the changing times. “Now, you’re most probably not going to marry your high school sweetheart. [And that] redefines what family really is.”

    Miller says one of his most challenging roles was being a father and raising two kids. And even in fatherhood, the way he used language was intentional – even in naming them.

    “I’m a baseball person, and I look at my life in terms of innings – now, I’m going through the 7th inning stretch,” explains Miller. “When you reach your 70’s, you still have your life ahead of you. Jazz musicians are still performing in their 80’s, and that should be a guide for all of us. As an artist, you are not dependent on an employer. [Your art] never stops until you die.”

    Right now, he says he’s doing better than ever, and it’s the busiest “inning” of his life.

    “Before, I was not making a living as a writer. I was never applying for grants and fellowships, but now I am free to travel and write more,” says Miller. “My career has really taken off. I finally have an assistant. She edited my collected works, which would never have happened if I was with the University. It made me very, very productive. Some people think I don’t sleep.”

    He’s also been the board chair of the Institute of Policy Studies for the past 10 years (currently the interim chair) – a progressive think tank working to build social, cultural and economic equality.

    “I chose the board – I moved our organization to a new facility. I put Danny Glover on our board, and Harry Belafonte,” says Miller, adding they discuss things from domestic workers to healthcare issues. This is the first year that I know personally well two members of Congress. Some of those people I’ve met through the Institute. People associate me with literature, but I’m also involved in politics. My day has a lot of projects – I’m doing a tour of the south right now – going to all the black schools with my friend, a filmmaker. Just came back from New Orleans, and next we are heading to Tuskegee in Alabama. There’s a lot to do – a lot of collaborations. Being a writer, you’re not just concerned about what’s going on in the U.S. but all around the world. That’s how you should live your senior years. If you stay healthy, you can make a contribution…What we need today is heroes.”

    What is the most important piece of advice about life that you would tell your younger self knowing what you know now?

    “I think what I’ve learned now are two things: We have to practice deep listening. We have to understand what [people] are afraid of, what they’re suffering from. Then the next level is compassion. Once you get past that point of compassion, then you can talk about the beloved community. There are levels. You have to prepare yourself spiritually for the steps…Every day when you wake up, fix something that’s broken. That way you know there’s going to be something different between today and yesterday. That’s how you know…You gotta make some changes, and it might be very small. Sometimes the first thing you gotta fix is your heart…When I look at my love poems, they’re always about desire and seeking. If you can in your life have one good friend, then you have done something that is very, very difficult, because you have to love that person with all their flaws. It takes a strong spiritual point of arriving, too – that level of love is what we’re really lacking in society. We are losing that with our young people – we’ve gotta bring caring and civility back. I see people yelling at each other and no deep listening.”